Fields of Sorrow
by Master-Magician
Summary: Death. The entire field reeked of it. It's stench carrying over everything and everyone. Many unfortunate souls still lay upon the battlefield, badly wounded and all crying for aid. Most would never be leaving this place whole if at all.


**Takes place shortly after the battle. Fair warning, this may be a little bit graphic to some. If the rating needs to be upped above T let me know and I'll do so. **

**I'm really wanting to do more Hobbit one-shots but I'm having difficulty coming up with ideas. So if anyone has any to share I'd love to hear them. **

**Enjoy.**

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><p>Death.<p>

The entire field reeked of it. It's stench carrying over everything and everyone. Many unfortunate souls still lay upon the battlefield, badly wounded and all crying for aid. Most would never be leaving this place whole if at all.

There were of course many attempting to lend what help they could. All searched the battlefield for fallen comrades and loved ones. Even now, the wounded were being carried from the field by the score. Elven healers had set up many tents to save those who could be saved.

Many could not.

There was even still wounded orcs clinging to life. The ones tending to the fallen had to be escorted by the unwounded. Occasionally there would be a scream of pain as another injured Orc was put down permanently.

Everywhere there was the wails of Elf, Dwarf, Orc, and Man. All mixing into a morbid symphony of agony and misery.

The bulk of the fighting had been done here, in the slopes and fields before the great gates of Erebor. It was here the great armies clashed in a deadly duel for control of the mountain and its treasures.

It was here five armies met in a battle to decide the fate of the region.

Being still so soon after the battle, fresh corpses were everywhere as far as Legolas' elven eyes could see. Dwarf, Elf, Orc, the occasional large bat, all covered the field indiscriminately. There were few bodies of Men, most of those were back in the ruins of Dale.

The orcs had divided almost immediately when the battle began. A large force broke off to attack the people who remained behind in Dale. These were no fighters, they were the old, the wounded of Smaug's attack on Laketown, the women, children, and sick. To avoid the slaughter that would have inevitably followed, Bard retreated his men back to the city to protect it. Not just them though, Thranduil led many elven warriors to defend the city as well.

The dwarves were left to engage the foul creatures on the field on their own. They were anything if not resilient however. With their ancestral home back in dwarf hands, they would stand and fight to the last.

So stand and fight they did.

Dividing the army had been what the orcs were hoping on. By creating a battle on two fronts, the orcs split the defender's army in half. The orcs already outnumbered the combined army of Men, Elf, and Dwarf but with it split apart it was all the easier to slay them.

Legolas knew if he were to set foot in Dale, he would find things no better there. The orcs had fallen upon the ruined city like a tidal wave of violence and brutality. The Men of Dale were no soldiers, they were fishermen, people who had scrapped by for a life trying to find what light they could. The little they had was almost completely destroyed by Smaug.

Legolas was actually impressed with the fortitude of the Men. So soon after surviving a dragon attack, they were thrust into a battle with an army of orcs. Yet, like the dwarves they stood their ground and fought to the bloody end. The Men battled not for home like the dwarves did but instead fought for their families. Bard himself even had three children to protect.

The bowman had actually become the new leader among the survivors. No doubt due to his action in slaying Smaug. There was even talk of him becoming the new lord of Dale if they were to rebuild the city. If anyone were best qualified for the position, it was him.

Looking upon the battlefield, Legolas was disgusted with it all.

So much death, so much pain, so much suffering. All for what? A dwarf stronghold in a mountain and a pile of gold and jewels? Was that all worth so much lost life?

With the slaying of Smaug, all descended on the mountain. Everyone wanting a piece of it.

Greed, that was all Legolas could see as she surveyed all the dead. These people were all dead because of the greed of the ones who led them. All their lives, what they were, what they could have been, reduced to nothing in the single painful second it took for death to claim them.

Legolas looked down to his feet at the corpses all around, among them lay a fallen elven warrior. The once golden armor rent and stained with Elf and Orc blood alike. His body lay still, unfocused and lifeless eyes staring into the clouded sky above.

He completely ignored the blood and filth that covered the once clean ground as he kneeled down to the body. Legolas instantly saw the grievous wounds the warrior bore. His arm had been almost completely cleaved off by an orc blade and hung limply at his side. The deathblow must have come from the gaping stab wound in his stomach. The same blade that took his arm likely ran him through. In what order the wounds were inflicted, Legolas was unsure.

The elven prince could not help but imagine the life lost in the warrior beneath him. Elves lived such long lives, an early death took so much away of what the Elf could have given to the world in a long existence.

Pushing the sinking feeling in his stomach aside, Legolas reached over and closed the Elf's eyes and whispered a prayer above his body. It was all he could do for him.

Legolas heard the footsteps among the bodies before he heard the voice. "Did you know him?"

Rising to his feet, the prince looked up to see Bard standing amongst the dead looking at corpse at his feet.

"No," was Legolas' simple response. It was the truth after all. Being a prince, there were few elves who actually knew him. The only one who really did was not present on this field.

Tauriel had been left to mourn the loss of the dwarf prince. Legolas could not recall his name but he had been important to the fiery haired maiden.

The Elf prince was no fool, he knew Tauriel would never want to be betrothed to him. The fact that Thranduil could not see that was unbelievable in itself.

To Legolas, she had always been the younger sister he trained beside, fought beside. Legolas had helped raise her somewhat and she would always have a piece of his heart but not in the way his father thought.

Looking back at the mountaintop where he last saw her, Legolas knew that the Tauriel he spent so long beside was gone. With the death of the raven haired prince she would never be the same.

Legolas did not understand her infatuation with the dwarf but he did not outright question it. She had earned his loyalty and support many times over the years. It was why he did not hesitate to stand up to his father in her stead.

Even if that meant raising his blade to the elven king himself.

Seeing Tauriel clutching the dead dwarf to her breast, Legolas saw that her feelings for him were not a mere infatuation. As the tears poured from her eyes, the elven prince saw that she loved him.

Now she was broken, hollow. Legolas had both heard and seen what happened to those among his kin who lost the one they pledged their heart to. Tauriel was strong willed, but even she may not be able to take the pain she was now forced to endure.

Legolas could do his best to help her but even he could only do so much. This was not an enemy, like Bolg, he could slay to protect her. It was a battle only she could fight, only it was not one she would want to.

Perhaps it would have been an act of mercy if Bolg had felled her before Legolas could intervene...

Bard made a soft noise of acknowledgement but otherwise did not question why an elven prince was saying a prayer over the body of a slain warrior.

The leader of the Men remained silent as he gazed upon the battlefield. As Legolas followed where he was looking he noticed the ones tending to the wounded were bolstered from an unexpected source.

"Are your people not used better within the city?" Legolas asked curiously. Up until now, it was almost all dwarves and elves searching the field. Now there were several groups of Men doing the same. Since there was a lot of ground still to cover, any extra sets of eyes would be a very welcome addition.

Bard was quiet for a few moments before he spoke up. " I don't have many men to spare but after the aid given by your people this is the least we could do." Before Legolas could respond, Bard continued. "We don't really have much we can do for them but at least we can get the survivors off the field to those who can."

Once again Legolas found himself impressed by the Men of Laketown. Their own people were broken and suffering and yet here they were, helping Elf and Dwarf alike in need of aid.

"You have my thanks." Legolas said as he moved to stand beside the former bargeman.

"You don't have to thank me, we would not have survived any of this on our own. None of us. " Legolas' keen senses caught the hitch in his voice at that. No doubt the Man was thinking of his children he nearly lost.

As both Man and Elf stood among the blood and filth of the battle, Legolas hoped that perhaps once all the dust settled there could be peace and prosperity again for everyone. The dwarves would rebuild the mountain eventually. Bard would no doubt resettle Dale. The entire region would be as it was before the coming of Smaug, no matter how long it took.

Legolas could not be part of it though, not anymore.

Tauriel had been right all along. There was great evil in this world, it was being allowed to grow stronger and stronger by the day because of the indifference of those who were supposed to defend against it.

No more, Legolas would not sit behind a wall like his father and watch as wickedness suffocated all before it.

The elven prince knew not where to begin except for a single name given to him by his father.

Strider.

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><p><strong>As I said, if anyone has any ideas to share by all means fire away. <strong>


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